


Randy & the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

by citizenjess (givehimonemore)



Category: Queer as Folk (US) RPF
Genre: Children's Book Parody, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-24
Updated: 2013-03-24
Packaged: 2017-12-06 07:16:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/732907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/givehimonemore/pseuds/citizenjess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Randy Harrison's life sucks, or so he thinks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Randy & the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

**Author's Note:**

> Written circa-2006. Based on the similarly-titled children's book by Cynthia Viorst.

I fell asleep in front of the television propped in a chair last night, and now there's a crick in my neck. I accidentally dropped my glasses into my bowl of cereal, and then I tripped on the way out the door because I was in a hurry. I could tell right then and there that it was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

On the set, I forgot my line during a scene we'd been rehearsing for hours, and everyone got irritated with me. "Randy," the director asked, "is something wrong? You look tense." I told him that I'd rather be in New York, curled up on the couch, and everyone just laughed, even though I wasn't joking.

During a break in-between sets, Gale joined me for a cigarette. "Let me get that for you," he offered when my lighter refused to work. "I don't know if I can hit the movies with you this weekend, by the way," he continued apologetically. "Something might have come up." I just sighed.

My terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day continued when the directors asked Gale and I to pose as our QaF characters' comic book personas so one of the artists could design the cover. When Gale picked me up, he jokingly noted, "geez, Rand, put on a little weight?" I really wished I was back in my apartment in New York at that point.

At lunch, I didn't eat, even though I was hungry, and even though Hal's personal-sized pan pizza smelled really good. I was worried that Gale might have been right, and we were supposed to shoot a sex scene between Brian and Justin later that afternoon - I didn't want him to tease me about my so-called "love handles" or anything. My stomach growled in protest, and my terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day dragged on, without the aid of food.

The sex scene took forever because the directors wanted about a hundred takes for every shot, and it was cold on the set, besides. Later on, I was smoking a cigarette on the terrace (even simulated sex requires a post-fake-coital nicotine high, sometimes), and Gale followed me outside. "You're not upset, are you, Rand?" he asked. He tried to pull me into a casual embrace, but I wasn't in the mood. Normally, I would have enjoyed the attention - truth be told, I really liked Gale, and had spent many a nights wishing he weren't straight so I could have an honest-to-God romp-in-the-sack with him.

Today, though, I just wished I was back home in New York, curled up on the couch.

The rest of the day was similarly terrible, horrible, no good, and very bad. Fab "accidentally" poked me with his violin bow during a scene. His character Ethan may be a natural-born fiddler, but musically inclined, Fab isn't. "Hey, Randy," he commented quietly after we shot a couple of takes with our characters kissing. "Have you eaten anything today? It's just ... your breath kind of stinks, so I wondered." *I* wondered what sound *he* would make if I shoved the violin bow up his ass, but instead of giving into the homicidal urge, I simply took the proffered piece of gum he handed me and thought about New York.

By the end of the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day, I was tired, sore, and ready to drop dead. "Goodnight, baby," Peter called enthusiastically to me, but I barely heard him as I hurried off the set. I was hurrying so much, in fact, that I didn't hear Gale calling my name until he breathed it into my ear and clapped a hand on my shoulder, making me jump. "Wait up," he said, and I spun around moodily to face him.

"I have had the most terrible, horrible, no good, very bad fucking day of my life, Gale. I've been starving, tired, forgetful, teased, prodded, clumsy, and in-the-way, so if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go home and fall asleep and dream about doing it all again tomorrow."

Gale blinked. He blinked and he blinked, and then he opened his mouth a couple of times without saying anything. Finally, he spoke: "I'm sorry," he said sincerely. "But, um, hey, the reason I followed you out here was to say that my possible other plans for the weekend fell through. So if you still want, I'd love to catch a movie together. How does Saturday sound? I'll pick you up around eight."

"Saturday will be great," I assured us both. And it will be, I'm confident of that. Because while today was about as terrible, horrible, no good, and very bad as they come, it's rare that such catastrophe occurs in as concentrated an amount more than once every thousand years or so.

Besides, I bet everyone has a bad day once in a while. Even in New York.


End file.
